


Perfect Demons

by EmilytheSlayer



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Binge Drinking, Depression, Drama, Eating Disorders, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilytheSlayer/pseuds/EmilytheSlayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming back hasn't been easy for Buffy, and her friends aren't helping. Feeling more miserable than she already was, knowing her self-control has disappeared, Buffy feels useless. Her self-control was the only thing that kept her from falling apart. Now that it's gone, Buffy struggles to try and find it again.</p><p>Her friends want to see their leader get better, they want their leader to be happy and perfect again. Under all that pressure, how far will Buffy go to reach perfection and get back the control she once had?</p><p>Meanwhile, Spike struggles on coming to terms of his relationship with Buffy. But when he sees that she's falling apart, her friends too blind to notice, he knows he's the only one that can save her from the demons inside.</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Headache

_I don’t care if it hurts._  
_want to have control._  
_I want a perfect body._  
__I want a perfect soul.  
_- _Creep by Radiohead____

 

It hurt.  
A thin trail of blood trickled down from her arm and onto her cold, bony feet. She watched in a complete, stony daze as the crimson red liquid spiralled down into the drain. Reminding her of the failures she had made throughout her life. The edge of her fingernail dug deeper into her skin. It wasn’t enough. The cold water splashed against her pale body and, tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. Everything seemed peaceful. There was no music blasting, no television playing and no shouting. The water from the shower head splashed against her cool skin, creating a sense of tranquility. Although the argument from last night that she had with Giles about slaying made the headache pounding inside of her not as peaceful.

She had lost control that night.

Showing her emotions and vulnerability was something Buffy refrained very hard from doing.

But she lost it in front of Giles, complaining to him about how exhausted she was and that showed her weakness. They weren’t supposed to know how miserable she was, but a slip of her tongue and the control she had melted away. They were supposed to be persuaded by her fake smiles and laughs that she was getting better.

But it didn’t happen that way because… because…

_I have no more fucking control. That’s why._

Her self-control was the only thing that kept her from breaking down. It prevented her from doing stupid things like everything she had done the night before. Everything was stupid. She was stupid! _Jesus fucking Christ, Buffy. Get yourself together. _Running a thin finger along her cut she pressed down on it, the wound reopened and blood came dripping down. It fascinated her.__

She was almost grateful her healing powers hadn’t kicked in yet.

She still wasn’t finished. Questions still needed to be answered.

What happened to her self-control?

She had lost it all after her resurrection.

Now she was useless. Nothing. She wanted control.

Pounding on the door brought her out of her own little world and back into reality. She opened her eyes and groaned when she heard who was behind it.

“Buffy, open up! I need to pee!”

Great.

“Give me a minute!” she called back, coming out of her daze, and turned the shower off. Dawn groaned loudly on the other side.

She scrubbed at her arm violently, clearing most of the blood. Scrambling out of the shower, she grabbed her towel from the hanger and wrapped herself in it. Gripping the sink with both hands, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Her quick escape from the shower had a nauseating affect on her. God, she needed a nice long, fucking sleep. It was a bad idea to not sleep for three days while running only on caffeine.  
Damn those fucking bills and vampires’ and-

“My bladder is about to explode!” Dawn whined from behind the door while pounding on it like crazy.

“Okay, okay! Calm down, Jesus!” Buffy snapped, opening her eyes. She took one quick glance at her tired reflection- _well don’t I look crappy today_ , and opened the cabinet above the sink. She grabbed a bottle of Tylenol and popped two of the pills in her mouth. She considered on taking all of them because she knew that two wouldn’t be enough to calm the pounding in her head. Also not a good idea to spend an afternoon nursing two bottles of vodka while blasting music at full volume when home alone. She tilted her head back and swallowed them. The pounding orchestra Dawn was conducting on the door wasn’t helping the excruciating pain coming from Buffy’s head.

“I swear to god, Buffy. If you don’t open this door, I’m gonna pee on the fl-“ before she could finish her sentence, a seriously pissed off looking Buffy swung open the door and walked right past her.

“All yours” she muttered, not looking back and shut the bedroom door behind her.

Dawn frowned and looked at the closed door to her sister’s bedroom. She’s in an odd mood today, Dawn thought. What the hell was going on? The sudden need for having to urinate came by again in her mind like an alarm and she dashed inside the bathroom, forgetting about her sister.

 

Buffy lay on her bed with a pillow covering her face, screaming. The pillow muffled the loud noises that escaped from her mouth, but couldn’t calm the storm brewing in her head. She pushed the pillow down harder, letting it suffocate her, and closed her eyes. Her screams died out and the pain she felt subsided. For a moment, the world stopped and she felt at peace. The calming sensation of lying down, her heartbeat slowing as time passed by, knowing she could die, was almost serene. Then she felt it.  
The sharp pain in her chest as her heart pounded and pounded, begging for oxygen and to be released from the pressure of the pillow. Buffy’s eyes popped open and she panicked, throwing the pillow off of her. Panting, she sat up and wrapped her arms around herself. What the hell just happened? Had she tried to kill herself? No, no if she was then she would’ve give in and let the pillow suffocate her. Funny way to kill yourself, she thought. A pillow. How unique. She shook her head, confusion written all over her pale face. Her mind took over but she fought it and took control using her body.

Control.

That was it. Her body. The physical part of her she could control.

A small smile crept upon her lips as an idea popped into her head. She found out a way to get control. Starting with her body. If she could control it, make it perfect, then she could try and control her mind. She’d be perfect and better. She’d be the perfect slayer. That’s what her friends wanted. One step at a time was how she was going to do this. It was time for the planning part. How was she going to approach this? To take control of her body would mean… it would mean…  
Well shit.

Buffy rubbed at her temples, trying to get the gears in her mind to work and come up with a plan. She was desperate for control. It was the only thing that held her together and she couldn’t bear to fall apart. Not now.

She wanted perfection, right? So that meant making her body look perfect. But what does that have to do with keeping control? Buffy frowned and closed her eyes tightly.

Got it.

Food.

Food was her weakness here; it was the thing that she had to avoid to prevent her from losing control and being perfect. Losing weight was her goal to having the perfect body and taking control. She knew it would be difficult, to resist all of the temptations. Food would be constantly surrounding her, now that Dawn had bought a cooking book, her sister would make her eat whatever unhealthy thing she had cooked up. Buffy took a moment to wonder when and how Dawn managed to buy the cookbook. Was it the allowance Dawn had saved? She shrugged it off and focused her attention back to the plan.

One advantage Buffy had was her lack of appetite. Ever since her resurrection, food tasted like crap and dirt, and water was the only thing she could keep down at the moment. Having no appetite prevented her from getting hungry, which was a good thing. Other people would just find it crazy. Another advantage would be her slaying duties. She could burn some calories during her training and patrolling. If they see her actually making an effort with her duties instead of just moping around being tired all the time like she’s been doing the past few weeks, it would show them that she was getting better.

Okay, this was good.

Buffy reopened her eyes and pushed herself up off her bed. She walked over to the mirror that stood in the corner of the room and examined her body. She had definitely lost weight since high school, Buffy noticed. Her cheekbones were hollow and her collarbones seemed more prominent. Her curves were smaller than before. For a split second, Buffy considered on just forgetting about the whole taking control on her body, but she shook it off quickly.

_I need to do this.  
_

She stepped closer to her reflection and frowned. She really did look tired. Small, dark circles were under her eyes. The paleness of her skin really added to the effect.

Okay, now I think I need some coffee.

Buffy closed her tired eyes and turned her head away from her reflection. She couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. She was going to change. She needed to fix the big fuckup that she’d become. The sound of the bathroom door opening caused Buffy to open her eyes again. Either Dawn’s bladder had a huge supply of urine or she fell asleep on the toilet and just woke up. Buffy let out a small laugh as she visualized Dawn falling asleep on the toilet and just letting her arms sag low and her body toppled over.

“Buffy?”

Shit.

Clearing her throat, Buffy walked over to her closed bedroom door and swung it open. She forced a smile on her face and resisted the urge to just slam the door.

“Yeah?”

Dawn raised a brow and crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left foot.

“You look like crap.”

Giving her a dark look, Buffy put on a terrifying smile, her eyes not matching the expression.

“Thanks.” she responded with heavy sarcasm.

“Yeah, um, I was just wondering if you’d like to…” biting her lip, she tucked a string of hair behind her ear before continuing, “go out, just the two of us? For lunch or-or something?” she smiled nervously, mentally crossing her fingers. She really hoped Buffy would say yes. Ever since Buffy had been brought back, she hadn’t been keen on the whole socializing thing. Dawn felt like changing things up a bit. She just hoped for it all to work out.

Buffy, on the other hand, had to restrain from rolling her eyes and just walking away, back to her bed, to sleep. Did she want coffee? Yes. Desperately. Did she want to go outside? No. Did she want to be normal? Yes. Did she not want her sister to suspect anything? Definite yes. She let out a small sigh and gave Dawn a small smile.

“Sure.”

Dawn’s smile grew, lighting up her face. She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. Grabbing Buffy’s wrists, she pulled her closer.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!!”

Letting go of her sister’s wrists, Dawn ran off into her room, still bouncing up and down, squealing excitedly.

“Yes! Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fun! We should totally go shopping after or something cause I got some money saved that I wanna spend!” she said, waving her arms before disappearing into her room.

Buffy’s face fell flat and her smile disappeared. It was going to take all of her energy to socialize and act happy. She was sick and tired of doing it, but it was a way of saying to the people of the world, “Hey! I’m getting better! Look at my smiles and laughs and how interested I am with being alive!”

She just had to get through this day, and the next, and the next, until she is fixed and perfect and her friends know that she is better. Her sister’s bedroom door opened and Dawn walked out wearing casual skinny jeans and a silky, black tank top with a rose pattern on it. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and she had applied some eyeliner.

“Wow, okay. Do I have to get all dressed up?”

Dawn gave her sister a look and just shrugged. “If you want.”

“It’s just us, going to eat lunch at a cheap place, Dawn. Nothing to get all fancy about.”

“Fine then. Do what you want. Not my fault that you’re jealous of my looks.” Dawn smirked, looking her sister straight in the eye. Buffy opened her mouth to say something back, but Dawn grabbed her arm and dragged her down the stairs.

“Let’s just go. Cause now I’m actually really hungry.” She said.

“Okay, fine.”

Dawn let go of her sister’s arm and walked out the door, her ponytail bouncing up and down. Buffy closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She prayed to the Gods for her not to screw up and make her more of a failure.

“Time to clean up the big mess that I am” she muttered before following Dawn out the door.


	2. Breathe

The door to the empty café opened, ringing the bell on top, and two girls entered. A waitress glanced up at the first two customers of the day. One who looked about 16 years old with long, dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail, smiling. The other girl, the waitress assumed was the older sister, looked slightly uncomfortable. From her distance, she could see the older girl’s hands shaking. She looked like a lost little puppy looking for its mommy in a crowd full of strangers. The waitress frowned and continued to study this girl who had sparked a strange interest within her. Her blonde hair was slightly messy and not as neat as the other girl’s. She was pale and looked exhausted, unlike the other girl who looked full of life.  


_Well, it is the morning… maybe she’s not a morning person?  
___

The waitress shook her head, put on a bright smile and walked up to the girls, grabbing two menus sitting on the counter.  


“Hello, Ladies. Welcome to The Daily Grind Café. Where would you like to sit this morning?”  


The brunette girl pulled at her sister’s sleeve and pointed towards the table beside the front window.  


“Can we sit there?” she asked.  


Her sister nodded, with a glazed expression. The waitress noticed this but decided to ignore it and instead, she smiled, and walked them over to the table. She handed them the menus and walked away, leaving them be. She knew it wasn’t her business, but she did know these two sisters were hiding something and boy, did she love the mysteries some customers held.  


She looked at the sisters again, remembering two customers she met a year ago that came into the café, both were girls. One, she remembered, the brunette girl, had looked frightened and was pale and shaking, like the blonde sister who had just walked in. And the other customer, her friend, had blonde hair and her arms wrapped around the scared brunette, comforting her. It was something Piper could never forget. The way the blonde held the girl close to her, feeding her was so heartbreaking. She remembered the sickly appearance of the frightened girl, the worried expression of the blonde. What had happened to the two girls? Piper didn’t know.  


And she probably never will.  


It had been a year and those two mysterious girls hadn’t stepped foot in the café since.  


Piper snapped back to reality and looked at her newly customers. She tilted her head and studied them harder. Unlike the girls from a year ago, there was no comforting, or anything like the heartbreaking moment from a year ago. These two still had a story, something dark. The older sister’s eyes told it all. She looked so broken, but the obvious mask she was wearing to cover her pain was certainly convincing her younger sister who was chatting away happily.

“Whatcha getting?”  


Buffy snapped her attention from the floor back to her sister, who seemed to be overwhelmed with all the food and drink possibilities.  


“What?”  


Dawn raised a brow and put down her menu, pointing at all of the selections.  


“To eat?”  


Buffy blinked, then let out a shaky laugh, realizing what Dawn meant. She tucked a string of hair behind her ears with shaking hands and leaned in closer to read the options. She ignored the weird look Dawn was giving her. Rows and rows of fatty, disgusting food was written before her, their descriptions making her nauseous. She pictured the fat oozing from the burger, dripping down her fingers. And the loud crunch of food in someone’s mouth, chewing and chewing, mixing together all kinds of fatty foods. Buffy tore her eyes away from the menu, pushing down the bile that had just risen in her throat.  


“I still haven’t decided.”  


Nodding, Dawn continued looking at the menu, ignoring the hurt look in her sister’s eyes.  


Buffy hated this. She hated feeling like this. She hated waking up everyday with no will to live and the constant thoughts that swarmed in her mind of killing herself. She hated the way her friends looked at her like she was a fragile piece of glass and could break any minute. She hated herself for using Spike just so she could feel something. She hated all the pressure everyone put on her. She hated…  


She hated herself.  


Why couldn’t she just be fucking _normal? ___  


She wanted to cry and scream and break stuff. She wanted to rip the menu in half and throw it at the waitress. She wanted to smash the windows and scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to cry on her sister’s lap and let Dawn comfort her. But she couldn’t.  


Doing that would mean a loss of control and that’s not what she wanted.  


What she wanted was control.  


_I can do this.  
___

She looked at the menu again and focused her attention on the list of appetizers. God, why did she agree on going out with Dawn?  


“Have you decided on something, girls?”  


Buffy blinked several times before turning to the waitress. She glanced at Dawn, gesturing for her to go first.  


“Oh, um, may I have the Grilled Cheese?”  


Piper smiled, taking the menu from Dawn’s grip and nodded. She then turned towards the older sister, who seemed to be struggling. Piper frowned, unsure of what to do. Cautiously she placed a steady hand on the girls shaking shoulders as a sign of comfort.  


“Do you know what you want, Sweetie?” she asked softly.  


Dawn worried gaze focused onto her sister’s vacant face. Her eyes glazed over. There was definitely something wrong. Her sister had never acted like this. 

Well, never in front of other people. Hesitantly she reached towards her sister’s hand and held it tightly.  


“Buffy?”  


Something flickered in Buffy’s eyes snapping her out of her thoughts, the haunting vibe escaping from her eyes and replaced with the mask she wore everyday that hid her pain. She twisted her way out from Dawn’s grip and flashed a smile at the waitress, whose face looked full of worry for the strange customer.  


_Make up your mind, Buffy.  
___

_Fucking choose.  
___

“I-“ the words couldn’t come out. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t like that there were so many options to choose from. Why couldn’t things just be plain and simple? At least have ten items on the menu. Not two pages of them. The sudden desire to cry came at her, making it harder to breathe.  


It was too much.  


She began to panic.  


Her breathing grew rapid, she felt her chest constrict and the air seemed to tighten around her. She closed her eyes blocking out the panicked voices coming from her sister.  


_Just breathe _, a voice in the back of her mind said.__  


She tried to.  


But she couldn’t.  


Not with people staring.  


She opened her eyes again with a terrified expression. The mask she wore finally slipped and revealed the crumbling porcelain doll underneath. She felt the bile rise up in her throat. Covering her mouth she dashed from her seat and into the bathroom to throw up. 

Dawn’s eyes rested on the bathroom door, still unsure on what happened. She knew her sister was struggling with her whole resurrection but she never really knew just how much Buffy was hiding.  


Until now, that was.  


Whatever Buffy had been hiding, restrained from showing, came through in the small moment of her panic. Her sister was struggling and no matter how many times Buffy said she was getting better, how her friends believed it and as much as Dawn tried to, she wasn’t.  


No.  


She’s getting worse.  


And it terrified her.  


A tear escaped from her eye.  


“Buffy” the word escaped from her lips and she couldn’t help but feel her heart break.  


Piper looked back at the younger sister, then to the bathroom door, then back to the sister.  


_What the hell?  
___

She swallowed and cleared her throat to hide the awkwardness that she felt.  


“I’ll be back with your, um, food”.  


The brunette gave her a distant nod, and wiped at her eyes. Piper slowly walked away and back near the front of the café. She placed the order by the kitchen window for the cook to see and went back to the counter. As she wiped the top for the third time in a row, she couldn’t help but think about the two sisters. There was definitely something going on. The blonde seemed to have had some sort of panic attack. Piper felt a sting of guilt, wondering why she didn’t bother to help the poor girl. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to help. It was just… so _sudden. ___  


She’d never seen a customer have a panic attack, or anyone for that matter. Except for on television or in movies.  


_But that doesn’t make it okay to ignore them.  
___

Her inner voice had a point.  


The ring of the bell told her the grilled cheese was ready. She set down her cloth and took the plate from the cook, smiling softly at him. She walked over to the table and saw the brunette girl with her head in her hands.  


Piper stopped for a moment then placed the food in front of the girl who lifted her head when the plate made contact with the table. Dried tears stained her cheeks as she rubbed at her eyes, smiling.  


Hesitantly, Piper glanced at the bathroom door, hoping for the older sister to come walking out but when a minute passed by she gave up staring at the door and took a seat across the younger sister.  


“Hey, um-“ she stopped. Piper had no idea what the girls name was.  


“Dawn” she said.  


Piper was surprised from the quick response then cleared her throat. She took Dawn’s hands and pulled them close.  


“Look, Dawn, I can see you’re worried. Your sister is clearly not in a good place right now. Am I right?”  


Dawn nodded, sniffling.  


“I don’t know what’s going on between you two but I just want you to know that your sister needs you. Of course, that must be obvious. But I want you to know that she really needs you. Whatever she’s been hiding has peeked through and wants you to find it.”  


Dawn gave her a quizzical look, wrung her hands out from Piper’s grip, and then crossed her arms.  


“Why are you telling me this?”  


Piper sighed, rubbed at her face and then smiled warmly.  


“Because I’ve been down the same path. The thousand-yard stare your sister has is not something to be ignored when her eyes look as empty as my bank account.”  


Dawn gave her an _“are you serious” _look and raised both her brows.__  


“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Anyways, you get my point, right?”  


The girl nodded.  


Piper leaned forward and folded her hands, looking intently into Dawn’s eyes.  


“Be there for her, okay? No matter what kind of shit she causes or what she does, don’t give up on her.” Tears brimmed in Piper’s eyes and she looked down.  


“I made that mistake a long time ago when I lost my best friend.” She choked out before the sobs took over her body.  


Dawn, unsure on what to do reached her hands out and let the crying waitress hold on to them as she stared down in pity. 

 

Buffy sat hunched over, clutching onto the toilet seat for dear life, dry heaving. When she felt like passing out from her efforts of getting rid of the sick feeling in her stomach, she sat against the wall and put her head in her hands.  


She still felt like shit.  


And now everyone knew.  


Well, everyone as in Dawn and the waitress. Piper was it?  


Suddenly she was crying. Hot tears ran down her face, and they wouldn’t stop. She rubbed at her eyes trying to clear them but they kept on coming. And coming. Everything she had kept bottled up inside of her came out in one big, hot mess of tears.  


God, it was too early to be breaking down like this.  


_You’re pathetic and weak.  
___

_You have to be strong.  
___

Buffy nodded to herself and wiped at her eyes. She lifted her head and stood up shakily, her body suddenly feeling heavier. She walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on. She ran her shaking finger under the cold water until it was freezing.  


Cupping her hands, she splashed the freezing water onto her face in an attempt to wake her up from this shitty dream.  


And she failed.  


Just like I do at everything else. She failed at saving Jenny from the evil clutches of her former lover, she failed at keeping her normal college guy as a boyfriend, she failed at being a sister, at doing taxes and bills, she failed at being a slayer, and she even failed at being dead!  


_Couldn’t I just stay dead?  
___

_Please?  
___

Oh how her Death Wish longed to come true. With a sigh, Buffy took a quick look at her reflection then slowly walked to the front of the door. She put her forehead against it, and let the cool air that came off it surround her in the cold. She gripped the knob and turned it, pushing it open, not expecting the sight before her.  


The waitress, Piper, was crying and clutching onto Dawn who was looking down at her with a sad look.  


“Hey.”  


Dawn looked up and saw the broken face of her sister with an attempt of a smile.  


“Hey, you’re back.”  


At this, Piper lifted her head and smiled when she saw the older sister, whom she should learn the name of, she realized.  


Buffy simply nodded and walked towards the two. She glanced at the once appealing and hot looking grilled cheese, and pointed.  


Dawn’s eyes widened and she wrung her hands together.  


“Oops.”  


Piper rose from her chair, sniffling.  


“Don’t worry. I can pack it up for you girls to take home.”  


Buffy was taken aback by how nice this woman was. She shook her head and smiled.  


“No, it’s okay. Thank you but-“ she was interrupted by Piper’s hand stopping her.  


“No ‘Buts’. I got this. Don’t worry.”  


“Really? Are you sure?”  


Piper gave her a cold look.  


“If you keep declining this offer than you won’t get it for free.”  


Now it was Dawn’s turn to speak. Her eyes widened and she stood up from her seat.  


“For free?”  


Piper nodded. “Just like I said.”  


After an awkward exchange of stares, Buffy finally agreed for the free meal, leaving a big tip. Piper waved the two sisters off and smiled slightly to herself.  


They better come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing Piper, I couldn't help but think of Piper Chapman from Orange is the New Black. Anywho, please leave a review if possible!


	3. Heaven Knows

The music blared loudly in the club, flashing lights as the people there danced their problems away. The masks everyone wore as they drowned in grief, hiding in the crowd as the beat took them away, was almost funny.

_People can be so oblivious. Narcissistic assholes. Ignore everybody’s pain but your own. That’s the sad, pathetic reality of this generation._

Thankfully, Spike wasn’t from this generation. No, he was from… God knows. But he knew that he wasn’t one of those ignorant assholes. He cared. Deeply. He was a caring, loving vampire! He sunk his fangs in the heart and soul of a sweet chocolate cake and shared it with the world to provide happiness. Chocolate made people happy. He knew that because Dawn told him when she was…

What did she call it? Bleeding out?

God knows.

Women and their weird bodily functions, something he could never understand.

Maybe he was being too optimistic, too full of himself. Did he really provide happiness? No. He provided the finger that pushed all the buttons of the Slayer. He knew she didn’t like him. Yet, she still came. And came. And came. Thrusting her fragile body onto his in a passionate yet hateful kissing battle.

It messed with him.

Not in a,“confused sexuality”, type of way. It was more of a,“what the fuck is happening?” way.

Okay, no. Scratch that. He was confused. Confused with the whole… he couldn’t call it a relationship. Right?

Spike rubbed at his tired eyes and downed his fifth shot. The people dancing became a mix of unfocused shapes. He was drunk.

No.

He was wasted.

Drunk was two shots ago. What was he doing? This clichéd action of drinking at a club, sad and alone, couldn’t make him look more of a loser from a pathetic Lifetime movie. Groaning, he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. It hurt. He couldn’t wait for the agonizing hangover that he’d have tomorrow. But he deserved it, right? The pain. It reminded himself that he was nothing but a monster.

_You’re in love with pain.  
_

That’s what she had said to him before things got… rough. Spike laughed. He had to admit. Buffy was right, not just about him, but herself. They were both monsters. Their inner demons fought with each other in a heated battle in the ruins of that abandoned building. Internally, the two of them fought in such a way that eventually the demons connected. Their inner demons were drawn to each other which was what made them…

_Whole.  
_

Was that even the right word to use? If he were asked to describe the fact that he felt this connection between the two of them would be impossible. She hated him and he hated her. So why did she keep coming back and why did he let her? There was something he was missing.

Spike lifted his head and ordered another drink. Maybe the alcohol could clear things up. Or have the opposite effect and make him forget. That was also an ideal option. The bartender brought his glass over as well as the bill, and then walked away.

“Oi, I’m not finished!” Spike yelled, waving the receipt in the air. When the bartender didn’t respond, he took a swig from his glass and stared deeply at the piece of pathetic paper and wondered why things like those even existed. Were they supposed to cause stress? When did someone decide for a house to have a bill that you needed to pay for every year? Why couldn’t the house, once you bought it, be free? No bills, or taxes.

That’d make every bloody human being’s lives much easier.

Spike downed the rest of his drink, left a tip for the bartender and hurried out of the club.

The night sky was dark and cloudy. No stars shone, unfortunately. He liked looking at the stars, pointing out the special groups like the big dipper. Dru liked to count the stars. Spike dug into the pockets of his leather jacket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He inhaled the scent of the tobacco as it ran through his veins. He couldn’t remember when he began smoking, but he found it relaxing. It wasn’t like he could die from it. Shaking his head, he began walking back to his crypt.

First, he made a stop at the liquor store, handed the nice guy, Jimmy, who was working back at the corner 10 bucks, for the two bottles of Jack Daniel’s and proceeded walking down the street. He decided taking the long way back through Revello Drive. That way he could check in at the Summer’s residence and hopefully talk some sense into the slayer and sort out all of their shit. Also because he had heard from Dawn while waiting for his mug of blood to heat up in the microwave, that she had overloaded in the process of buying packs of those tiny little marshmallows he liked so much.

Whistling the latest tune stuck in his head, Spike walked up towards the front door. He stumbled a bit but caught his balance. Throwing his cigarette to the side he tapped lightly on the door causing it to open slightly. Frowning, Spike pushed it open all the way and stepped into the dark hallway. He noticed one lamp lit dimly near the living room. The silence filled him with worry. Although this sort of setting would be ideal for him, it didn’t fit in terms with the Summer’s residence.

Which was what made it worse.

Maybe lil’ Bit and Sis went to sleep?

Spike nodded to himself. Yes. That would make the most sense. He shrugged the feeling off and let his eyes wander to the floor. He noticed the one pair of shoes near the door. They were Buffy's. The only other pair missing was Dawn’s. He knew the Scoobies were at the Magic Box; he was in there before he decided to get drunk.

Maybe Dawn was with them? But then Buffy would’ve had to be there as well.

_Quit worrying. Everyone’s fine. It’s the bloody alcohol that’s making you panic.  
_

Dawn was fine.

Sighed, he rubbed at his face tiredly and walked to the kitchen. He pulled a pack of the marshmallows from one of the cabinets near the fridge and grinned. He brought it to his face and inhaled the delicious, sweet scent of pure goodness.

“Spike?”

Throwing the bag to the side, Spike looked at the figure standing in front of him. His eyes traced over her body and when they met her eyes, he smiled. But it was gone in an instant when the back of her hand slammed hard into his cheek.

“Ow!” Spike screamed, laying a hand over his cheek. The hint of a bruise crawled under his skin and he frowned slightly. He couldn’t _wait_ to see what colour it would be in the morning. Blue? Yellow? Purple? Black? It was an amazing rainbow of pain and a pot of suffering at the end.

“What the hell, Slayer?” Spike glared at her, bending down to pick up the bag of marshmallows.

“Sorry. You, um, freaked me out.” Buffy said, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked at the bag he was holding and stared at it questionably.

Following her gaze, Spike held out the bag in front of her. He noticed the slight panic that flashed in her eyes before shaking her head.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

He reached inside of the bag and brought a marshmallow to his mouth, chewing on it seductively. He licked the bits of his thumb with a sign of satisfaction.

“You’re missing out on a delicious opportunity, Slayer.”

With a sigh, Buffy walked away into the living room.

“Maybe later”, she called from behind causing Spike to smile. He casually walked behind her, reaching into the bag to grab another marshmallow, and sat on the edge of the couch that Buffy was seated on. Spike took this opportunity to study the Slayer from up close. He noticed earlier there was something different about her, but he just couldn’t lay a finger on it. The extra-large sweater she wore hung loosely from her small frame, covering her shorts. Her goldilocks hair fell past her shoulders and Spike resisted the urge to reach out and stroke it. The paleness of her skin was noticeable, making the dark circles under her eyes stand out against the dim lighting. His eyes finally rested on her face and then he saw it. The sudden change in her that took over his mind as he lay in the darkness, thoughts swarming as every possibility for her actions ran through his head, biting at him- no pun intended.

Something was upsetting her.

It was something so painful, so… heartbreaking that made her look so broken. So _lost.  
_

But what was it? He had assumed it was her post-resurrection phase, but even he knew, from experience, you eventually forgot about it. It may take a while, but at least the traumatizing event doesn’t break the person anymore. Not as much. She was in some dimension. Red said she had been in Hell. For the first month, Spike almost believed it. That the Slayer, the person who saved the world from every bloody apocalypse, the one with a heart as big as the universe, was sent to hell for her soul to rot in while suffering eternal misery.

It made sense at the time. But 147 days later, he realized it was stupid. It was stupid to think, that this gem of a hero would be punished for her actions. No. She wouldn’t have belonged to that dimension. But no one thought of that.

Not one _fucking_ person had the decency to take the time and really think about where the poor girl was. They all just had to jump to the most obvious and seemingly only conclusion. That she was in hell. Why? Was it because the bloody freak show goddess gave them all hell so the gang decided, “Oh, yeah, the bad guy was hell, they were from hell, that’s where Buffy went after she jumped, so she’s suffering eternally but hey, at least the world is saved and we’re still alive and if anyone asks about her, we’ll know and they’ll believe us because we’re right. We’re right about her being in hell cause that’s the only place she could be. And we're her friends! So of course we're right.”

Bloody, blind idiots.

They think she should be a ball of joy after their magic mojo because they saved her from eternal misery when in reality; they pulled her out of a place that… that was the complete opposite, a place that she deserved, a place that would give her the eternal happiness her poor soul needed.

And in that exact moment, Spike realized where she had been for the last 147 days.

She was in Heaven.

And it broke him.


	4. Crystallize

He felt the tears come pouring down his face in a stream of grief before he could process what was actually going on and stop the embarrassing flow of tears as he sat their and wept silently for the slayer. With his head in hands and gut wrenching sobs. Each tear that escaped from inside slowly made the alcohol in his body disappear when he wanted nothing more than to drink another five bottles of a strong substance and drown again in his grief as he sobered up. He wanted to forget again. He didn’t want to face the truth. It hurt. His heart was shattered. And he couldn’t seem to find the pieces. They were scattered somewhere in a void of nothingness that he suddenly felt.

Heaven.

A word, a place one only dreamt of. A place one would want to stay in forever. But she couldn’t. No. Her destiny didn’t allow it. Neither did her friends.

Fuck the mighty gods and their ancient prophecies of a chosen one. This girl wasn’t born into the world to suffer and hate to live. She was born to live. But any ounce of happiness that she was given had been taken away from her. Heaven must’ve been…

Spike couldn’t think of the right word. Was there even a right word to use to describe an eternal feeling of happiness and accomplishment and rest? The place she deserved to be in, she was torn out of.

Torn out, by her friends.

What kind of bloody friends were they?

“Spike?”

After a moments pause, Spike lifted his head and strained a smile onto his face. He gave her a small nod.

“I’m okay, Slayer”, he said, wiping at his eyes.

“Okay, Mr. Cries a lot for no reason. What was that about?”

He shook his head, forgotten marshmallow bits hung from his lip. He wiped at them effortlessly.

“Just me sobering up.”

“Uh huh.”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy turned her attention towards the box of entertainment that stood in front of the couch, pressing a button to turn it on. A reality TV show appeared on screen and another scene of pointless conflict and yelling came on. How many real housewives could there be? She flicked through the channels absentmindedly with an uninterested expression before finally setting it on the show from earlier. As entertaining and stupid reality TV was, nothing seemed to hold her attention for more than half a second. She was disconnected from the world, but appeared mesmerized by the flickering lights on the screen.

As the lights kept flickering, the look on her face had hardened. Each flicker that went by across her face, darkening her expression, was just as terrifying as it had been before. Whatever thought was swarming inside of her head couldn’t be anything light. She looked as if she was in pain. Was she thinking of it again? The painful departing, the immediate sense of life again, the scent of soil and the earth, the panicked feeling of having no oxygen, the sense of relief once having reached the surface, the sight of her tombstone, the fire on the streets, the screaming and the yelling and the sound of her name, the sight of her friends, her enemies, her… punishers.

 _I’m being punished. Was I not good enough for heaven?_ The sudden thought hit Buffy like a ton of bricks. Each block smashed onto her as the pain she felt grew. If her self-esteem couldn’t drop any lower than it already had been, this would’ve been the moment in her life where she realized just how much she hated herself. But that moment already passed a while back. This situation just made it worse. She wasn’t good enough, not even when it came to being dead! That’s why her friends pulled her out. Because she just wasn’t good enough. It was as simple as that, right? It was her fault that she was pulled out. Her friends were punishing her for being so stupid and… wrong. And they were right. She deserved it; the pain, the suffering, living her life knowing she could’ve done something to stop the mess of the century known as Buffy Summers, when she did nothing but make it worse.

Why?

 _Why_ did she do these things to herself, to everyone around her?

_It’s because you’re not good enough.  
_

That was why she needed to do what she needed to do to make something good out of herself, for herself. No more showing her feelings, her panicked thoughts, she was going to do this right this time. She was doing this for herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Spike had been staring at the screen for a while, commenting on the stupid actions by some annoying housewife who had just announced the pregnancy of her dog and decided to celebrate by partying and that, of course, led to an outburst from the husband and fight with the other dudes while the ladies shouted and the other dogs barked. He questioned the choices some people made, and animals. And as much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed watching it. He gave a silent thank you to Buffy when she stopped flicking through the channels and landed on this gem of entertainment. It distracted him from the agonizing thoughts that had struck him earlier.

He took this time to peek at the Slayer, sitting beside him, on a couch, alone in a living room with the TV on, the two of them looking like a normal couple. If he moved closer, he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close and kiss her. Make her feel like things would be okay. But no, she would never let him. She would lash out at him with those bony arms of hers and kick him out of the house. She’d uninvite him and the invisible barrier would appear in between them, blocking him from entering and he’d be back at square one. He would be the enemy of the Slayer again. Not the lover. Never could be the lover. He’d be the hopeless case. The desperate man staring at his too-cool-for-someone-like-him friend grabbing all the ladies and sometimes the men, while he stood by and observed and cried and felt sorry for himself because no one loved him.

Then as the days would go by, he would continue to pass the house, lurk in the shadows and stare in pity at the Slayer and watch her waste away as her so-called friends continued to ignore her problems and ask her to fix theirs. Because that’s what she did. Save the world, and everyone else’s world that they had in their minds. But no one bothered to take a look into her world and clean up the mess that it had become. If she would just let him in, explain to him how she felt about everything that would make things a whole lot easier. But she wouldn’t do that. He knew her better than that.

The need for some alcohol itched at his skin. He took another look at the Slayer before getting up and walking into the kitchen. He swung open each cabinet, looking high and low for any bottle that was full with heavy, hard liquor. At the bottom left cabinet by the sink he finally found it. Kneeling down, he wrapped a hand around it and smiled before standing up. He and Buffy could definitely use this time to get wasted and forget about everything, even if for a moment. Spike’s lip curled and he walked over to the living room couch.

“Oi, Slayer.”

Her gaze drifted from the screen to the bottle grasped in his hand.

“Care for a drink?”

Spike shook the bottle, gesturing for her to take it. She did without hesitation, almost greedily. Bringing the bottle to her lips she took a big gulp and swallowed before handing it back over.

“I really needed that,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

Spike took a long swig from the bottle as well, swaying slightly. He gave her a long, hard look before nodding in agreement. The alcohol bubbled its way to his brain again getting ready to blur his vision as the world around him swirled into a mix of unfocused shapes for the second time that night.

“Think we both did.” He barely heard the words escape from his mouth.

* * *

 

Five bottles of cheap alcohol that the two of them didn’t remember getting later, surrounded by empty bottles that drowned their sorrows, Buffy and Spike wound up on the back porch. Spike inhaled deeply from his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke in front of Buffy’s face. She coughed waving it away and he laughed. It felt good. Sitting on the porch, smoking and drinking, it made him feel normal. He was happy. Because he was with the slayer and she wasn’t beating the shit out of him this time. They could almost get away looking like a normal couple. Almost.

“Why are we doing this?” the question came so suddenly, catching Spike off guard. He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, letting it dangle from his lips. He cleared his throat and gave her a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and spread her arms wide. She pointed towards the bottles and then the sky and the house.

“This. Interacting. Almost like we’re-“

“Normal?” he finished for her.

Nodding, she closed her mouth and looked down at her lap. Her fingers were laced together. Absentmindedly she began picking at a loose string from her sweater.

“It’s weird. Out of all people, the way I used to envision this moment of having a normal kind of night, hanging out with all my friends and not having to think about being the slayer, you were definitely not involved.”

Spike raised his eyebrows and smirked. He took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it off to the side; small bits of ash fell to the ground.

“What was it of?”

“What was what of?”

“Your normal kind of night” he used quotations for the word “normal”. He took the dangling cigarette from his mouth and flicked it off to the side, the leftover ashes landed on the grass. They looked like fireflies set on fire. He tried to imagine the screams that would erupt from the fireflies’ throats as they burned and burned while the humans watched and called it beautiful. Trapping them in jars and placing them on shelves and showing them off to their friends. It was sick. Just like society was. Just like… the miserable group of scoobies the slayer called her “friends”. Once again, quotations used.

“-And then I’d go home, say hello to my mom and maybe get in some last minute studying for a test I’d have the next day. Or sneak out to a friend’s house and we’d drink and dance and party. I’d be hungover the next day but it’s better than waking up with cuts and bruises and-,” Buffy stopped. She glanced over at Spike who was staring deeply at the ground, lost in thought. She tilted her head to one side in confusion and hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked back in surprise and swung his head to face hers.

“What?” he asked, his mouth still hanging open. Buffy grinned and leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Were you even listening to me?”

“Course I was!” he shot back, suddenly feeling very defensive. Buffy’s grin grew wider adding a small flicker of light into her eyes. It disappeared quickly after as if she made a mistake of showing her happiness and replaced it with an angered expression. Her brows furrowed in anger and she shook her head, suddenly feeling very insecure about her feelings. Maybe she was just being too sensitive? That for once, she could talk freely to someone about her feelings and needs only to have them completely ignore her?

_Pull yourself together, Jesus Christ. This is nothing serious. Look at the pointless conflict your causing. Just like reality television. You don’t want any attention drawn towards yourself. Stop it. Nobody cares._

Spike’s eyes narrowed as he watched Buffy’s expression change suddenly. She looked troubled. It was the same expression she wore when staring at the television earlier. The same expression that haunted his everyday thoughts, the emptiness in her eyes, the shaking of her head, and the paleness of her skin as everything screamed out “help” all the while putting on this façade of “I’m totally better and not in pain.” She was falling apart and the alcohol and small talk couldn’t distinguish her pain. As much as Spike thought it did and Buffy wanted it to, some things were best paying close attention to and couldn’t be ignored or numbed with a substance.

His mind went back to a year ago when he had found Buffy sitting alone on the back porch, her head in her hands, crying. He had stepped towards her, gun in hand with the intention of killing her. But when she looked up at him, it made him stop in his tracks. Her face held so much pain and he knew something was wrong. A tear slipped from her eye and something flickered within them. Almost as if she had finally realized what he was doing and what he was holding, almost as if she wanted him to do it. To pull the trigger and let her pain and suffering end. Something had stirred inside of him, a feeling of guilt. It was a feeling of pain and sorrow for her. It was the same look the two slayers he had killed had given him.

The Death Wish look, he called it.

And it had terrified him to see it in her eyes. A year later, today, he saw the same look. But this time it hadn’t come in a flicker. It was written all over her. He saw right through that façade, every bloody day. He saw, could almost feel just how desperate she was to make this wish come true all the while pretending nothing bothered her and that she was fine.

It sickened him. Just like with the fireflies. The show she put on, all the smiles and fake laughs and attempts at living, but underneath all that shine was a broken girl, her light dying out, waiting for death to come swallow her up again. She had no way of escaping. Her friends had her trapped in a jar, and only took her out when they needed her help. It was sick and dirty and unfair and cruel and… and it hurt.

He reached out a hand towards her and let her cold, bony fingers wrap around his. He held his gaze for a minute and mentally let out a sigh of relief when she didn’t jerk away.

Buffy stared at him in a moment of confusion. She looked down at their grasped hands and back up again. The expression he wore on his face showed something like compassion. It was almost as if her cared for her. And he did.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered.

“Listening to you.”

Before she could say anything, his other hand rose and rested on her chest.

“I may not have been listening to your speech about being normal, but I was listening to your thoughts and feelings.”

“What, are you psychic or something?”

Spike laughed and shook his head. He let his hands fall to his sides and grew serious once more.

“Let’s just say, I’m no fool.” And with that, he stood up, grabbing his duster and half empty bottle of Jack. He took the last remaining swig of alcohol and threw the bottle onto the porch. It smashed. He then walked away leaving a drunk, confused and miserable Buffy behind to stare at the shards of broken glass as she tried very hard to not think of the broken pieces as little remnants of herself.

She never heard the front door opening ten minutes later.

* * *

 

Spike had a plan. It wasn’t a genius plan. But he hoped it would work. If this didn’t help the slayer, then he didn’t know what would. Strolling through the empty street, his thoughts kept going back to the slayer and her Death Wish. He didn’t know how to approach this plan. He just knew, and he hoped, Buffy would fight for her life in the process. That was all that mattered. That she fought. That she wanted to live.


End file.
